


The Beast

by Blaumeise



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Horses, M/M, Snow, lots of misery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28548447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaumeise/pseuds/Blaumeise
Summary: Izzy was the right man for this job and the farmer had known it at first sight. Izzy didn't have to be afraid because there was nobody who was dear to him.
Relationships: Duff McKagan/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 26
Kudos: 22





	The Beast

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old one I have brushed off a little bit because we have quite a bit of snow at the moment and it felt fitting somehow.

**The Beast**

It was just another village, a couple of houses huddled together at the foot of the mountains, the roofs covered with snow and smoke rising from the chimneys. Three years ago, when Duff had passed it for the first time, the number of houses had barely counted a dozen. Then the flood had destroyed the bridges down the road to Riverland and the pass across the mountains had become the way to go for merchants, soldiers and travellers. People brought money and money brought new settlers and quickly the hamlet had grown into a prospering village. 

The road was paved now, but Duff still remembered the muddy dirt-track where a horse's hooves would sink in to the fetlocks and a man had a hard time to place his feet without slipping. It had been spring that day three years ago, and they had come down from the mountains while now they were riding in the other direction. 

The green fields down in the valleys had been heavenly after the icy nights spent in caves and under overhanging rocks. The air, ripe with the scent of unknown flowers and the songs of birds he had never heard before, had almost repaid him for the hardships of the previous weeks, and Duff had hoped that life might still be worth living for him. 

This time it was hard to believe that in a couple of months spring would cover the hills with primroses and buttercups. The days lasted barely long enough to saddle the horses and get on  
their way. Dusk had caught them hours ago, but Izzy was not deterred by such mundane things as darkness. He knew each sheep-track in this part of the country and Duff had learned to trust him enough to not be worried. So, what, if he could barely hold on to the reins with mittens that were stiff with snow, while the stirrups had turned into bars of ice beneath the soles of his boots? They would find shelter before they froze to death. 

"Wait here," Izzy ordered when they stopped in front of the inn.

Duff took the reins while the horses nuzzled each other with a fondness that came from years of comradeship. They had been companions for as long as he had been Izzy's, the gelding being bought barely an hour after him and as unwilling to go on a journey that hadn't ended until today. 

When Izzy returned with one of the innkeeper's servants, he gave him a curt nod and Duff jumped off the horse. Snow crunched under his boots and unable to feel his feet, he stumbled and almost fell. 

"Give me the horses," the servant said, but Izzy shook his head.

"Show him the stable," he said and jerked his chin into Duff's direction. "He's taking care of them."

"Just as you wish," the young man said, a note of annoyance in his voice. "That way."

Duff followed him across the yard and into the stable where he carefully pulled his chin out of his collar to let the frost thaw off his face.

"Over there, there's room." The man hung up a lantern and his red hair, smooth and silky, shone like copper in the light. 

"Let me at least help you," he said, when Duff stumbled under the weight of the saddle. "I'm Axl. My father owns the inn."

Duff stalled. The inn was going well, and there should be a servant to take care of the stable. 

"What's your name?"

"Duff," he answered eventually and started to rub Izzy's mare with straw. 

"How long have you been riding? You look more exhausted than the horses."

"Years," Duff said and rested his forehead against the horse’s back. During the last three years, he had spent more time in the saddle than on his own feet. 

"Come."

Duff straightened as he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. 

"Sit down here. Let me groom the horses. You can watch and make sure I'll do it the way your master wants it done. If he doesn’t know, he won’t have reason to beat you."

He was sat into a heap of straw and watched dully while Axl brushed the horses and covered them with blankets before he fed them. His clothes were almost as threadbare as Duff’s own. 

"Izzy doesn't beat me," he said after a while. "He never does."

"Then you're luckier than most." 

The horses munched hay, snorting softly, and Duff was ready to lie down between their hooves and fall asleep. 

"Come inside, I'll see that you're getting your meal. What's right for the horses should be right for you, too."

They entered the smoky taproom, where he spotted Izzy at a table in the corner, right next to the fireplace. Duff took off his coat and Axl raised an eyebrow when he noticed the iron-collar. After three years he should be used to it, but still he burned with shame each time he received that first look. Axl didn't ask about the nature of his sins, just told him to spread out his coat by the fire, sit down and wait for his meal. 

Izzy looked up from his bowl when Duff sat down next to him. "Are the horses taken care of?"

"Yes." Duff could feel the fire's heat through his sweater, but it would take a while before he felt warm again. His legs were wet from melted snow and his feet were lumps of ice. 

He ducked his head, knowing what to expect when a sturdy man in a white apron approached their table. 

"He can't stay in here," he said and propped both hands onto the table. 

"Says who?" Izzy asked without stopping to spoon food into his mouth. 

"I am the owner of this inn and I don't want the likes of him under my roof. He can sleep in the barn, but you'll answer for any damage he does."

"He stays with me." Izzy shifted so that his sword on the bench became visible. "He won't be any trouble."

Duff squinted through his hair to catch a glimpse at the innkeeper. He was seething, his pride tickled by a guest trying to give him orders. If he was clever, he would accept. Izzy had no qualms about using his sword on another man and more than once his determination had meant food and shelter for Duff. It came with the trade. Whatever the job, Izzy saw it done.

"He also gets a full meal," Izzy added as if the decision where Duff would sleep had been made. "Soup, bread, meat and beer. And make sure it's plenty."

"He can have whatever he wants as long as you pay for it," the innkeeper said, his face red with anger. "In the barn."

Izzy picked up the sword and unsheathed it. "You have to oil the leather," he said and laid the blade onto the table. "Look, it's breaking here and here."

Duff took the sheath, but couldn't find any flaws. He had oiled it a day ago and the leather was as supple as it should be. 

"I hold you responsible for him," the innkeeper said and Duff watched his broad back as he retreated. 

"What are you standing there and gawping," he griped at Axl who had been watching the scene.

He had about half of his father’s bulk and his fine, almost delicate features stood in stark contrast to the man’s coarse face and wiry, black hair. 

"If he pays to feed that scum, then go and get his meal or I'll take the whip to you." He gave his son a shove in the back that sent him sprawling flat on his belly, but Axl quickly scrambled to his feet and escaped towards the kitchen. 

"Do you want me to do it now?" Duff asked, the sheath still in his hands. His stomach was growling, but he had long learned that the horses and weapons always came before his own needs. 

"Eat first," Izzy said and sheathed the sword. "There is no need to hurry."

Axl returned moments later, carrying a tray laden with food. He put it onto the table, but his eyes were lingering on Duff's collar. 

"Have you recently seen a slash, boy?" Izzy asked.

Duff shovelled soup into his mouth and ripped huge bites out of the chunk of bread. His feet were still devoid of feelings, but his stomach started to thaw as he filled it with hot food. 

"A slash?" Axl asked. 

"This one would be hurt," Izzy said, "and in need for shelter."

"I haven't seen a slash in my life."

"Then you're lucky, boy," a toothless old man threw in from the neighbouring table. "If you see a slash a loved one dies."

"That's superstition." There was a flicker of annoyance in Axl's eyes. "Old witches' stories, told in front of the fire to scare little children."

"You don't believe it's true?" Izzy smirked. "Then you won't mind keeping your eyes open for me, will you?" He flipped a coin into Axl's direction, who caught it and slipped it into his pocket. 

"I'll let you know," Axl said and left them alone. 

With each spoon of soup, a flicker of life rekindled inside Duff's body while at the same time a leaden tiredness seized his limbs and weighed him down. There wouldn't be any sleep for him though, no matter how numb from the cold his body was or that he was losing the ability to grasp a clear thought. He had to fulfil his duties first, trusting that his fingers would know what they had to do, like the horses knew how to put one hoof in front of the next. 

He couldn't stop thinking about the slash, about the droplets of blood in the snow, the enraged farmer and the dead baby in his arms. Maybe Izzy was right and the child would have died anyway, sick and tiny as it had been, but it had happened the night its father had caught the slash stealing eggs from under his hens. 

Duff was glad he hadn't seen the creature himself, although what difference it would have made, he did not know. His powers wouldn’t reach across the mountains and across the plains all the way down to Riverland and to the big city of Askrim, Duff reassured himself. Not in his current state, after pulling the fines of a dung fork out of his side and definitely not after a week of dragging himself through the snow with a hunter like Izzy on his heels. 

Izzy was the right man for this job and the farmer had known it at first sight. Izzy didn't have to be afraid of the slash because there was nobody who was dear to him.

"Are you done?" Izzy asked when Duff put down the spoon and for the blink of a moment his fingers slipped under his collar in a fleeting caress. 

"Yes," Duff replied, not ready to leave the warm taproom for the cold of the bedchamber, but knowing that there was still work waiting for him. 

"Ask the boy to show you the room. I'll be back in a minute."

Izzy would go and check the horses first and Duff would make sure everything was ready as soon as he returned. Axl led him up a narrow staircase, to a tiny chamber at the back of the house. The window faced the yard and Duff shuddered at the weather outside. The wind had grown into a storm and snow fell so heavily it made him wish even harder for a home of his own, instead of having to stay at places where only Izzy's sword enforced his right to a bit if warmth. It would be freezing cold in the barn tonight. 

Axl busied himself at the hearth, piling up wood and hitting flint over tinder. 

"What did you do to earn the collar?" he asked while Duff stowed Izzy's bags next to the bed. 

"I stole," Duff said and his cheeks burned from a different kind of heat than that in the fireplace. 

"You should have taken better care to not get caught." There was a tiny smile on Axl's lips. "You don't talk much, do you?"

Duff rummaged through the bags and found the little pot where he had put it the morning before. Axl's glance weighed heavily on his shoulders and he didn't know how to respond. Righteous people talked about, not with him and Izzy, though he never treated him the way he had every right to do, was so scarce with words that Duff had gotten used to being silent. 

"What do you want me to say?" He sat back on his haunches and turned his eyes on Axl. 

"Don't know." Axl sat down on the corner of the bed. "Where are you coming from? Where are you going to? Why is your master interested in a wounded slash?"

Duff thought about it. The hamlet they had started the hunt from didn't have a name. They had passed through Dunhead two months ago, but did that mean they came from that town? Then they had turned west and crossed the big river Lore on their way towards the plains. It was by accident that they were now heading north again. 

"Askrim," he said eventually and the memory was wet and salty in his throat. "I'm from Askrim."

He couldn't answer the question where they were going to. Nobody knew, not even Izzy, who directed his horse's steps wherever there was money to earn. 

Axl jumped to his feet when they heard the staircase creak and he was gone before Izzy entered the room and tossed his coat over the bench beside the fireplace. 

Duff helped him out of his leather gear and carefully put the weapons away. Izzy took off his undergarments and settled on the bed, facing the fire. Duff picked up the pot and sat down behind him. The scar seemed to burn tonight, the skin was taught and when he rubbed salve into it, he felt Izzy stiffen under his hands. 

When Duff had seen the wound for the first time, it had still been open, a ragged gash from the shoulder down to the hip. 

'A hit from a dragon's tail,' Izzy had explained. Too deep to heal it had opened each time he had lifted a saddle onto a horse's back and forced him to break with his rule to travel alone. And so, Duff hadn't only cared for his belongings, but had also washed and creamed and bandaged the wound until it had healed into an ugly, uneven scar that wouldn't be quiet for at least another dozen years. 

For reasons Duff did not understand, Izzy hadn't kept to what he had told him on that first day three years ago: that he would sell him as soon as he didn't need help anymore, but that, if he served him well, he would make sure he got a good master. Instead, he had kept him at his side and Duff still worked each evening on keeping the skin pliant or stood up in the middle of the night to heat water and soak the scar whenever Izzy was in too much pain to find sleep. 

"What are you doing?" Izzy asked after he had lain down and Duff had settled on the floor with a pot of leather-grease. 

"The sheath," Duff said. "I'd better take care of it now if you want to leave early tomorrow morning."

"We won't leave in the morning." Izzy crossed his arms behind his head with hardly a wince. "There's a storm that will make sure the slash is just as stuck as we are. Put out the light and come to bed." He lifted the blanket and so Duff took off his clothes and slipped under the cover.

Izzy's arms came around him and settled him against his chest. They had slept like this during that first night in the mountains, where sharing what little warmth they had, had meant the difference between life and death. 

"Sleep," Izzy whispered and kissed him the way he did now and then. It always left Duff confused and a little frightened. Like he mattered. Like he wasn't simply the boy who saw to Izzy’s horses and his weapons and who shared his bed at night. It was an illusion, but sometimes it almost felt real. 

The sudden warmth made him shake with the cold that hovered inside his limbs and it took a while until Duff stilled and relaxed. He was barely aware when Izzy rolled him over and although he felt the first finger being pushed into him, the rest happened in that hazy stupor of being neither awake nor asleep. 

It was dark outside when Duff woke up. The last logs were gleaming in the fireplace, and he reckoned he hadn't slept for too long. 

"What was that?" he asked when Izzy stirred next to him. 

"The horses. Something has disturbed them."

"I'll have a look." Duff shivered when he climbed out of bed. "Maybe it's a fox or something."

"Take the dagger with you, just in case."

Izzy wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and returned to sleep, while Duff put on his pants and forced his naked feet into his boots. He took his coat and sneaked down the stairs. The taproom was empty, but he could smell the smoke of the cold fire. He unbolted the door and almost closed it again when a gust of icy wind hit him right into the face. Even inside the confined walls of the yard he could hear the storm howl and snow had covered all earlier signs of hooves and feet churning up the ground. 

Duff hurried towards the stable, fighting to keep his footing on the treacherous ground and to shield his eyes from the tiny pieces of ice that pelted his face. He could make out footprints, half buried under snow, but still fresh enough to indicate that somebody had been here before him. He reached for the dagger and was reassured by the hilt between his finger. As all of Izzy’s weapons, the blade was honed to perfection. 

The stable door creaked and Duff carefully poked his head in. All he heard was hooves shuffling over the floor and the comforting snuffles of content horses. The mare and the gelding were the last in the row and when Duff slipped between them, he was greeted by two warm mouths pressed into his hands.

He leant back against the wall and waited, not sure why, as everything was quiet. He should return to bed and take what little sleep he was offered. 

Slowly his eyes adapted to the darkness and his hearing seemed to sharpen in the still of the night until he thought he heard the snowflakes hitting the ground. He was ready to go back when the stable-door creaked again. Duff held his breath and pressed himself firmly against the wall. His fingers closed around the dagger's hilt as he waited and over the mare's back, he caught a glimpse on a man sneaking past him. 

Axl.

Quietly Duff sidled out from between the horses and tiptoed down the aisle, following Axl into the back of the barn. He knew he had neither reason nor right to do so and if he was caught and accused of stealing, not even Izzy would be able to spare him a public whipping. 

There was a ladder at the end of the rear-room, leading up to the hay loft. Duff sat a foot onto the lowest step and climbed, carefully testing for creaking wood with each movement. He could make out piles of hay in the wide attic, but Axl was nowhere to be seen.

Duff pushed himself off the ladder and made a few hesitant steps. The planks under his boots were old and he felt as if he was balancing on ice in his attempt to move as silently as possible. 

There was another nook at the end of the loft, a little cranny that couldn't hide more than a few feet of space and knowing he was doing something forbidden, Duff stepped around to have a look. 

It was the first slash he had ever seen in his life. He cowered in the corner, wrapped into a horse-blanket. His eyes were like coal and black curls cascaded down his back. In the dim light that reflected from the snow outside, Duff saw the fear on the pale face. The savageness was still there though, visible in the watchfulness in his eyes and the tension of his body. There was nothing tame about him, nothing belying for longer than a second that pure desperation had forced him to seek out human shelter for a night or two. 

"Are you happy now?"

Duff whipped around and there was Axl. Jaw set, eyebrows pulled together, he stared at him with unconcealed hatred. He must have noticed that he had been followed and waited between the hay-piles. 

"You're hiding him," Duff stated the obvious.

"And why not?" Axl crouched down next to the Slash and pulled food out of a bag, bread, meat, cheese and a bottle of beer. 

The creature took it, but his eyes were still on Duff. He looked wild, yes, but also sad and lonely. Maybe he was homesick, now that they had driven him out of the woods and chased him across the plains. He couldn't return to his home and there was no other place for him in this world. 

"He's hurt," Axl said. "And starved and driven to exhaustion."

"I know," Duff said and made a hesitant step forward. Then he made another and another and knelt down next to the slash. "It was a pitchfork."

The slash held still when Duff shoved his clothes aside and removed the dirty, blood-soaked bandages. The wound was leaking, but looked better than he had expected. Maybe it had bled itself clean. 

"We need new bandages," Duff said. "And I can give you a salve for it." 

There was a second, unused pot and he could always claim that he had lost it. Izzy would grumble, but he wouldn't punish him. 

"Who asked you for help?" Axl pulled the slash away from Duff and he crawled into his arms like he belonged there. Maybe, for this one night, he did. 

"What are you going to do with him?" Duff asked. 

"I'll keep him."

"Keep him?"

Axl's expression turned stubborn. 

Nobody could keep a slash. Even if Axl managed to hide him, as soon as he had recovered, he would return to the forests he had come from. One morning Axl would climb up the ladder, and find the niche empty. No thank you, no good-bye. He would be gone and Axl was a fool if he believed otherwise. 

"I have to go back," he said. "Or else Izzy is going to ask where I was."

"If you tell your master, I'll tell my father that I caught you stealing, and he'll have you whipped until you’ll beg to just be killed."

"I won't tell anybody," Duff said quietly. Why should he? They weren't so different, the Slash and him. They were both tossed around like dandelion-seeds on a stormy day, unable to influence the wind that blew them forward or the rain that batted them down. 

"Why not?" Axl asked full of suspicion. 

Duff shrugged. "I have no reason," he said. "I have no business being here anyway, so how should I have found out?"

Axl didn't believe him.

"If you're lucky the snowstorm ceases and we'll be gone before Izzy finds out. But he shouldn't walk around at night, he upsets the horses."

He was a wild creature and his smell would disturb them like that of a bear or a wolf.

The slash hadn't moved, hadn't said a word, had watched while they were discussing his fate. Nobody cared about what he wanted. It was for a short time though, and if he survived until the snowdrops pushed their tips through the ice, he would be free to go home. Duff's throat constricted and his heart burned with longing and envy. 

"I can give you the salve tomorrow," he said. "In the morning, when I check on the horses."

"What took you so long?" Izzy asked when Duff crawled back into bed. "I was short of coming looking for you."

"I wanted to make sure," Duff replied. He shivered and gratefully accepted when Izzy took his hands to warm them up. "But I couldn't find anything extraordinary. Maybe it was just a fox."

"Maybe." Duff felt Izzy's lips on his jaw. "Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow."

The break of the storm Duff had hoped for did not come. As Izzy had predicted, the wind howled around the corners of the inn and when they took their place in the taproom to eat breakfast, the windows were covered with fern frost. Duff could make out Axl in the yard, shovelling snow to clear the path to the stables, and he felt for the little pot under his pullover. There was enough left in the old one for a couple of days and unless Izzy checked his bags, the risk that he would notice the loss was small. 

"You need a new one," Izzy said and poked a finger through a hole at Duff's shoulder. 

"I can darn it," Duff replied, but knew it was pointless. After three years on the road, his clothes were falling off his body. 

"It's all right." Izzy blew into the hot porridge on his spoon. "I can afford it."

"Why…" Duff swallowed. 

"Why what?" Izzy watched him curiously. 

"Why…" It was a useless question and Izzy didn't like useless questions. But this one kept coming back whenever Duff had an idle moment, whenever the weapons were cleaned, the horses taken care of and he was left to himself for an hour or two. "Why don't you buy a few acres of land?"

"A farm?" There was a twitch at the corner of Izzy's mouth, one that turned it upwards instead of downwards, and so Duff dared going on.

"I could work your land. I could care for your sheep and goats and maybe a cow and we could stay at one place instead of…."

"Duff." Izzy raised his hand an inch and it was enough to make him stop. "I'm not a farmer."

"No." Duff ducked his head. "I know."

"Good. Get my horse ready as soon as you have finished. And stay in the room so that the innkeeper won't have any reason to complain about you."

Duff followed part of the order. He found Axl on the hay-loft. The slash sat in his corner, but the fear had left his eyes. Instead, he had the air of a little animal that was settling to sleep the winter away. 

"Isn't there a risk of somebody else coming up and finding him?" Duff asked and handed Axl the salve. 

"Rarely. The stable is my duty and if I make sure there is enough hay down to feed the horses, nobody will bother."

When Axl turned his head into his direction, did Duff notice the black eye and swollen nose. 

"My father," he said when Duff stared, but didn't dare ask. "He wasn't happy with your master's attitude and I was the one to pay for it."

"I'm sorry," Duff said, but Axl laughed. 

"Your pity isn't going to help me any. Your master, where did he go?"

"I don't know." Izzy was not a man to lose many words about his intentions, but Duff supposed that he searched the nearby farms. He would be back late in the evening, hungry and cold, and planning the next steps. 

"Not that I care as long as he's gone. But as he left you behind, I suppose he'll grace us with his presence in the evening." 

Duff flinched under Axl's gaze.

"Why are you still here? You're only drawing attention to us. Go and do whatever it is you're normally doing."

"There is nothing I have to do," Duff said. He was disobedient, but for as long as he remained unseen, he more or less fulfilled Izzy's order. "And nobody is going to miss me. But you. Isn't your father going to look for you?"

"Why are you doing this?" Axl asked. He managed to glare through his bruises. "What do you get out of it?"

Duff thought about it. "Do I have to get something out of it?" he asked after a while. "I can stay here and take care if you want. Izzy won't return before dusk."

The slash hadn't moved. Duff was sure he understood them somehow, but Izzy had said that slashs didn't talk in words. There was another type of language they used. 

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked the slash and tried to read the response from his eyes. He couldn't. 

"He doesn't talk," Axl said.

"Then how do you know what he wants?"

Axl shrugged. "There isn't much to know, is there? Right now, he wants a place to stay, food, sleep and time to heal. What is there to talk about?"

A lot, Duff thought. Axl would notice that as soon as the slash had rested and regained his strength. Then he would have other needs and wishes and desires and they wouldn't be as easy to guess. Who knew what a slash wanted from life?

"You can stay," Axl said graciously, when they heard the innkeeper yell angrily for his son. "For as long as you make sure your master stays away from him."

"I'll try." As if it was in his powers to make Izzy do anything. 

Duff settled next to the Slash, preparing for a long day. 

Izzy returned hardly an hour after dusk. He shook his head when Duff reached for the reins and instead, he sent him back inside to make sure, food was waiting as soon as he had taken care of the horse himself. 

They ate in silence. Keeping secrets from Izzy was not something Duff was used to and it weighed heavier on his mind than he had thought. It wasn't guilt, rather a feeling that it shouldn't be like this and that maybe, if he explained it right, Izzy would understand and let the slash go. 

Instead, they ran through the evening's routine without speaking more than a dozen words. When he turned out the light, Duff hoped that the weather would clear enough for them to leave. Spring would come one day and perhaps the sun would melt his melancholy away with the snow. Life was easier during the summer, even for somebody like him. 

This time Duff didn't fall asleep. He was still awake after Izzy had finished and to his surprise Izzy didn't settle for sleep either, but continued to stroke his skin and his hair. 

"I think we'll go south," he said after a while. "We could follow the river all the way down until it parts into thousands of little streams that all run to the sea. Have you ever seen the ocean, Duff?"

Duff shook his head and Izzy pulled him closer. 

"You would like it. The sun, the water. The air smells different there, sweet and spicy and never like snow."

"What about the slash?" Duff asked. "You think he went south?"

"No. I think I have a pretty good idea about where he is, but, no. Although I'll never understand why Axl would want to keep a slash. Somebody should give him a hint to hide him further away from the horses."

Duff's heart raced and his throat dried up. "What are you going to do?"

"As I said," Izzy replied. "I think we'll go south. We could stay there for a couple of months, until the winter is over at least, maybe find a place to return to next autumn."

"But why…," Duff stopped. He wasn't sure whether this was a useless question and lately he had asked more useless questions than he should.

"You know what they say about slashs, don't you?" Izzy asked. 

"If you see a slash a loved one dies," Duff whispered and he felt a little surge of fear at the thought of his family. They were safe, he soothed himself. As long as the mountains were between them, they were safe. 

"That's what they say." Izzy brushed a hand through Duff's hair. "So, we'd better go south, don't you think? I don't want to risk it."

"Risk what?" Duff asked. There was no risk for somebody like Izzy, whose heart had frozen during all those winters spent on horseback and who had severed all ties that might ever have held him.

Izzy shifted and then Duff felt his lips at his cheek and his voice in his ear.

"To lose you," he whispered.

Duff waited in the yard, the sensation of the gelding moving between his thighs almost comforting in its familiarity. Izzy’s mare danced at the end of the rein, impatient to be gone. Heaps of snow were piled up everywhere, and the horses would have a hard time once they left the village. 

“Ready?” Izzy took the reins and mounted. 

“Yes,” Duff said. He tilted his face in an attempt to capture a few rays of sunshine. The sky was bright blue and he blinked into the light. “Ready.”


End file.
